


Returning to the Nest

by Ralkana



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, Seriously nothing but fluff, there is no plot here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reconnecting after Clint returns from a mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Returning to the Nest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlyKat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyKat/gifts).



> Disclaimer ~ Marvel's toys, not mine. I'm just playing.
> 
> For AlyKat, because she's sick and wanted fic with warm, fluffy feelings. I hope this fits the bill!
> 
> Thanks, as always, to Maquis Leader for all her help.

 

Phil breathed a sigh of relief when he came through the front door of his apartment to see the large lump of blankets on the couch. His shoulders fell a little, losing the tension he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying since Clint had left three days before.

A small smile curved his lips as he walked closer. All that was visible of Clint in the bundle of blankets was the tip of his nose and a few messy spikes of his hair. He was deeply asleep, and Phil pushed down the urge to touch him, to feel Clint’s warmth against his skin and his breath against his fingertips, to pull him close and reassure himself that Clint was home safely. Being the voice in Clint’s ear and sending him into danger when he was there to back him up was hard enough, but that was nothing compared to the stress of having Clint go off on missions he wasn’t a part of.

He'd been trapped in meetings all day and unable to meet Clint's return flight, though he'd gotten the texts Clint had sent to tell him that he was back, through his medical check, through debriefing, and then finally on his way home. The texts weren't enough, though – they never were. Phil needed to lay eyes on him, to run his hands over him and make sure he was really here and whole and healthy.

He didn't want to wake him, though. Clint's post-mission naps weren't usually long, but they were intense, and they seemed to help make up for the sleepless nights he suffered all too often.

Leaving his archer to his slumber, Phil headed toward the bedroom to change. If he finished up his work now, he could spend the evening with Clint guilt free.

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

He'd been working in his home office for about an hour and a half when he heard the faint sounds of stirring from the living room. The television came on with a blare, and the volume was quickly lowered and then muted.

"Phil?"

Clint's voice was soft and sleepy, and Phil smiled as he said, "In here, babe."

Usually, this would be followed by Clint wandering into the office to kiss him hello, but there was no further movement. Phil paused in his work to listen.

"You just gonna leave me out here all by myself?" Clint called plaintively, and Phil rolled his eyes. Clint's tone was barely half a step above a whine.

"I have work to do," he said teasingly, even as he began shutting down for the night. "Not all of us can just drop everything to jet on over to eastern Europe for a weekend of fun."

The silence stretched on for another minute or so.

"I'm cold," Clint said mournfully, and Phil's heart gave a sharp tug even as he shook his head with a wry smile.

Leaving his half-tidied work where it was -- it wasn't going to go anywhere, after all -- he moved into the living room to see a basketball game on the flatscreen and Clint sitting on the couch, paying absolutely no attention to it. He was curled into the corner of the sofa, wrapped in the massive blanket he'd immediately appropriated from Phil when he'd moved in and had never given back, half of his hair pressed flat, the other half in wild, chaotic spikes. He looked up at Phil with the most pathetic last-puppy-in-the-pound-someone-please-rescue-me expression Phil had ever seen in his life.

Phil couldn't help but laugh and Clint flashed him a wicked grin even as he shifted on the couch and opened his arms to make room for him.

He took the blanket from Clint and settled in the corner of the couch, leaning back and pulling Clint between his legs and toward his chest, draping the blanket over both of them.

Clint sighed happily and snuggled in, tipping his head up for a soft, sweet kiss that they both smiled through.

"Welcome home," Phil said against his lips.

"Missed you," Clint murmured, and then he shivered. Tucked up against Phil as he was, it was impossible for Phil to miss.

He frowned. "You really are cold."

"I was on a rooftop. It was snowing, the wind was howling, and the target took his sweet damn time. I may never be warm again."

Wrapping his arms around Clint, Phil pulled him even closer, pushing his hands under the sleeves of Clint's baggy sweatshirt to rub his arms.

In addition to the heavy hooded sweatshirt -- which, Phil noticed absently, was _his_ , not Clint's -- the archer was wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt, sweatpants, and thick socks.

"My poor little hawk," Phil cooed, hugging him tightly and laughing when Clint craned his neck to glare up at him. He pressed a kiss to the messy hair at Clint's temple. "You bring my archer back in one piece, Barton?"

"Not even a paper cut," Clint said with a yawn, settling back against Phil's chest and yanking the blanket tighter around them. He tucked his head under Phil's chin, and Phil smiled as Clint's hair brushed against his skin.

“Natasha?”

“In and out, no muss, no fuss. She pouted the whole way home ‘cause she didn’t get a chance to break any heads this time around.”

Phil chuckled. “A success.”

“Score one for the good guys.”

Phil was pretty sure he was starting to sweat, in jeans and a sweater, wrapped in a thick blanket with Clint squished up against him, but there was just about nothing in the world that could convince him to move right now.

"Hungry?" he asked quietly, and Clint shrugged.

"In a little while, maybe," he murmured. "Right now, I just wanna..."

He trailed off, stretching to press a light kiss to Phil's jaw before cuddling up against him once more. Phil smiled and settled deeper into the couch, perfectly happy to go along with Clint's apparent plan for the evening.


End file.
